


Variety

by losercandy (pacificaxe)



Category: The Young Ones, The Young Ones (TV 1982)
Genre: .......a little gore......, AU, Angst, Drabbles, Fluff, Gen, Humor, M/M, ongoing, unrelated drabbles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-19
Updated: 2015-09-16
Packaged: 2018-01-25 17:03:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 7,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1655915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pacificaxe/pseuds/losercandy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of drabbles related only by the fact that they're based on The Young Ones,  cos I can't be arsed to post them all separately. Feel free to skip around as your heart desires. The idea is to just keep updating it FOREVER. The idea might be bad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mr. Morrison

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick has a crush on his teacher, and actually bothers to show up for lectures. It might not make a difference, though.

_Pay attention, pay attention, pay attention, dammit!_ Rick thought, drumming his fingers against the bottom of the chair. He should be paying attention. It should be easy to pay attention. Mr. Morrison was such a good teacher, everyone thought so. He really made it very interesting, and yet… Rick wanted to pay attention so bad. He wanted to ace every quiz and breeze through every paper. He knew he was smart, but he wanted Mr. Morrison to know too! He tried very hard to take notes but… Well….Rick had never noticed how nice someone’s bum could look in dungraees. Shouldn’t have noticed in the middle of class. Why couldn’t Mr. Morrison just sit down like other teachers did? Why did he have to shimmy about during his lectures? It was hardly fair to Rick, putting all those poofy thoughts in his head. Why couldn’t Mr. Morrison just sit? Why couldn’t he look like Winston Churchill and wheeze when he spoke? Wasn’t that what teachers were supposed to do? Rick hated it, he _hated_ it. Rick pulled very hard on one of his plaits. He pulled so hard that he could feel tears stinging his eyes, hot, involuntary, and the least of his problems. Yes, it was _much_ easier to concentrate like this, _exactly_ like this. He’d just have to do this every class for the rest of the year. No problem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one is for [Nicole](http://archiveofourown.org/users/nicoleb/pseuds/nicoleb)  who desperately wanted more fic about Rick's crush on his teacher, and gave this her blessing.


	2. Kebab and Calculator

He never knew where he was going to see her again – if he was going to see her again – but he certainly had not expected it to be here. Three blocks away from his home. And he couldn’t let on. He wouldn’t let on. He knew it was her the moment they walked through the door. Fuck, she hadn’t changed a bit. He had though. He certainly had. She wouldn’t recognize him. No way. It had been too long. Fuck fuck shit fuck. He had to talk to her, he had to see how she was doing. His heart was in his stomach, and his head… it was so loud. Damn it. Damn. What, what the fuck was Rick saying to the band? Nod, just nod, yeah, say something dammit…”Madness isn’t it? It’s an embarrassment.” Good, that was fairly noncommittal, right? He tried to keep his head together, starting at his boots. Damn how long had it been? He couldn’t remember. He tried to tally but Rick – fucking Rick – was wailing about something. Idiot. Of course. Vyvyan just wanted him to shut up, dear god, he was concentrating. A drink. Rick needed a drink. Vyv needed a drink. He silently thanked his mother for working in a bar. He wasn’t sure he could handle this sober. He took the other’s orders and took a deep breath. Don’t let on, don’t let on. He stared at the bar when he gave her the order. He couldn’t do it. Fuck. When he finally looked up, she was staring. “Hello, Vyvyan.” He felt as though his heart stopped beating. Everything in his head went quiet. “Oh. Hello, mum.”


	3. Polar Opposites Don't Push Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (AHHH the first Rick/Vyv drabble of the bunch. And the second Rick/Vyv drabble of the bunch. These are actually related, so i'm posting them together)

The first time he said it, it had been so quiet that Rick almost didn’t hear. It had been quiet enough that Rick could pretend not to have heard it. They were just lying there together on the bed, fully clothed, and they hadn’t even DONE anything yet except get in a fist fight. Vyvyan had just turned over lazily, yawned, and said, “I love you.” Like it was nothing. Like Rick wasn’t laying there, waiting, with blood dripping out of his nose. He just said it, and he didn’t even have the common decency to get Rick off first. 

 

\----

He pushed him into the wall and kissed him, hard. Close-mouthed, desperate, joyless.  
When he finally spoke his voice was so low, so gentle, so pleading that it was the most terrifying thing Rick had ever heard in his life. “I love you.” He breathed out deeply, resigned. He didn’t want to be saying it but it was stupidly prevalent in his life, in his mind, in his body. It bubbled over and came out of his mouth all the time now. Rick put his hands up on Vyvyan’s shoulders to push him, and walked forward.  
“I know. So you’ve told me.” Blank. Emotionless.  
Vyvyan grabbed him by the lapels and pushed him back into the wall roughly.  
“So what? What is it then? Why don’t you love me? Haven’t I done enough for you yet?!”  
Rick should have been used to him yelling by now. Jesus, he heard it twenty times a day. But this shook him to his core. This man in front of him was not Vyvyan. This man was broken. This man needed something. Someone. “That’s just not how it works, Vyvyan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (ONE SIDED AND RICK IS NOT THE ONE SIDE? unheard of.) Yeah, the title is from a Modest Mouse song. Other titles of later drabbles will probably ALSO be from Modest Mouse songs...


	4. The Least of My Problems

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (another Rick/Vyv chapter! angst ahoy)

Spitting out gravel and teeth and blood. Blood. The taste of blood. The sense memory that always leads me back to you. Your face, your hands, your-  
“Hey! Are you alright! Sir?”  
No I’m not alright. You just hit me with your car. I am not alright. “Yeh. I think so. I-“ I cough. More blood. No I am not alright. “Oh man, let me call an ambulance.” Gee _thanks_. This guy is the least of my worries. His car is the least of my worries. My certainly broken ribs and my maybe punctured lung are the least of my worries.  
“Yeah, he just sort of ran out in front of my car.” He’s trying to whisper. Idiot. Of course I ran out in front of his car. I didn’t even see his car. He would have done the same thing. He would have done the same damn thing if he’d seen you, the way I thought I saw you. You said you would never come back, but I knew you were lying, I knew you were lying. No I don’t care about this guy, I don’t care about his car, I don’t care that my leg shouldn’t be bent like that. Nothing hurts worse than you leaving. I just hope they fix it soon, because every atom of my body is screaming at me to run after you. If it even was you. Couldn’t have been anyone but you. I’d know that orange hair for miles, I’ll know it for centuries, across dimensions. I don’t even care that I can’t keep my eyes open. Don’t even care that I hear sirens. Don’t even care that I’m bleeding. That’s the least of my worries. I just care that it reminds me of you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear I'll get to fluff and humor later. I SWEAR. Angst is just where I live right now.


	5. Habits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vyvyan is trying to pay attention, Rick is trying to retain information for once in his life.

Vyvyan had a lot of confusing habits and Rick had learned long ago not to question them. Instead, Rick just tried to categorize them so he knew how to handle them. There were three categories. Good, bad, and neutral. Neutral always frustrated Rick the most. Rick had to pay annoyingly close attention to other people to figure them out, and he had shown remarkable dedication to trying to learn Vyvyan. All of his old school teachers never would have believed it. Rick was finally starting to grow up. He was getting quieter. Talking less, listening more, trying to pay attention. Needing to pay attention. Vyvyan was learning Rick too, in his own way. Rick found that Vyvyan was usually able to figure out how Rick was going to behave, but was trying to learn him in other ways. Smaller ways. He wanted to know specificities. The why behind the what. Vyvyan had a habit of lightly tracing Rick’s arms with his pointer finger. He had a path, a pattern. Up from the inner wrist, towards the crook, a slope and then back down, across the palm, up from the wrist again. Over and over. It was Rick’s favorite. It was the first he’d confidently labeled as “good”. It was what Vyvyan did when he was thinking, learning, wanting. It lulled Rick to sleep, there in the dark, so that he forgot about everything else, almost Vyvyan, even. It shocked Rick a bit his quiet voice broke the long silence...

“What was your childhood like?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's more Rick/Vyv. Cheers.


	6. i am not my rosy self

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (tags at the bottom of my drabbles now, in case you're wary)

Rick wouldn’t know, but he doesn’t think it’s supposed to go like this. Neil’s eyes are screwed shut. He is turning red, in an alarming way. His chest isn’t moving. He’s holding his breath.  
“I- Is something wrong?”  
Silence. Nothing. He doesn’t even open his eyes.  
“Do you want me to stop?”  
A small nod. Quick, scared, pleading. He’s still not breathing. Not enough. Rick stops. Rick shifts away, standing on his knees on the bed.  
“Neil, are you okay?”  
Neil rolls onto his side and hugs his arms around himself. He shakes his head into the sheets and for a moment, he’s breathing again.  
“No I-“He looks so ashamed. “I’m really sorry, Rick. I couldn’t do it.” Rick can hear it, cos he’s heard it before, he can hear the lump in Neil’s throat and he knows he’s going to cry. His blood runs cold. “I’m sorry.” Neil says around a sob. “I-I thought I could do it…For you.” He whispers, pulling a pillow to his chest and hugging it. His voice wavers as the tears spill from his eyes. “But I can’t. I’m really….really sorry.” He says, and he can feel his sobs shaking the bed and he can’t hear anything past his fear. Rick’s weight leaves the bed and the room is quiet. Almost quiet. Neil can hear him softly picking up his clothes, getting dressed, and he knows he’s leaving. It’s everything Neil was afraid of, it’s exactly what Neil thought would happen. But the door never opens. The door doesn’t open, and Neil would know, because they gave him the room with the squeaking door. He’s holding his breath and waiting for the squeak, but it never comes. Weight on the bed again. Rick is back and he’s laying down. Close to Neil like he always does. Knees curled up and toching the back of Neil's legs. Rick rubs the back of his hand over Neil’s arm softly. Up and down and back again, comforting. Neil is crying and his face is hot and buried into the pillow, but he can still hear Rick, gently speaking to him. “It’s okay, Neil. It’s okay.” Rick leaves small kisses on his neck and his shoulder. “It’s fine, Neil. You’re beautiful, you’re wonderful, you’re fine.” Neil loves Rick when he’s like this, and he hates it that he’s so rarely like this. And he hates himself for loving Rick when he’s like this because it doesn’t make up for all the times he’s not. He hates Rick for it. He hates himself for hating Rick. Mostly he just hates himself.  
“Neil, you’re wonderful.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rick/Neil. Asexual!Neil ... lots of feelings..... The title is from Graceless by The National because...because.


	7. Coping Poorly

Rick crumpled even further onto the floor, a total mess, still ranting and beginning to sob. “Those selfish… tho-se s-elfish ba-stards.” He cried, his words drawing out in his sobs. He brought his hands to his face, muffling his voice. “They’ve left me here to rot. Left me here to rot with you. _With you._ You don’t even…You don’t even _l-ike_ me. You d-on’t care about me at _a-ll_.” His face was red and shining with tears. He lay on the floor shaking, breathing in sharply, deeply, building himself back up and letting it out in jagged waves of lost composure. “Of course I don’t like you Rick. That doesn’t mean I don’t care.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rick crying. that's it.


	8. Shut Up

He pulled away from the kiss, but just barely. His lips still brushed Rick’s when he spoke.  
“Shut up. Shut up. _Shut up._ ” He whispered. His eyes were closed and his eyebrows drawn together. His voice was quiet, so damn quiet. “I haven’t… I haven’t said anything.”  
Vyvyan leaned his forehead onto Rick’s and hissed out a shh. “I wasn’t talking to you.”  
“I- who were you-“ Rick stammered. Vyvyan leaned heavily into another kiss, because now it was Rick that he wanted to shut up. His hand was on Rick’s face and he could feel his hesitance. Rick wanted to pull away and Vyvyan was trying to communicate a silent, _“Don’t. Please don’t. I need this.”_ But Rick wasn’t getting it. “Vyvyan?” He managed to get out. Vyvyan wasn’t backing away, so Rick had simply turned his head. “What, Rick?” Vyvyan asked quietly. His irritation was audible, but not the most present emotion in his voice. He sounded resigned. Tired. “What…what’s wrong with you?” Rick asked tentatively, Vyvyan’s nose still digging into his cheek a bit. “I-“ Vyvyan sighed and released Rick. He backed up – not much, but enough for Rick to move. Enough for Rick to breathe. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t even look at him anymore. “What’s the matter? What’s going on?” This is not what Vyvyan wanted. He wanted Rick to shut up. And at the same time it wasn’t Rick. It was his head. Rick, talk and talk so I can’t hear. Rick shut up and stop asking questions. Vyvyan didn’t know what he wanted anymore. Vyvyan felt that he was all crumbling inside. It was black and rotten and crumbling and he didn’t know what to do. He was starting to understand why Neil stood on the roof sometimes, and he hated himself for it. He hated himself and it made him kiss Rick harder and harder every damn time. It made him kiss Rick harder and harder until Rick didn’t want to kiss any more. Until Rick was scared. Vyvyan hated himself for scaring Rick, but hating himself just made him want to kiss Rick more. He wanted to pull away, really and truly, somewhere deep inside him. He wanted to pull away because he’s Vyvyan and he ruins everything he touches and Rick is no exception.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vyv/Rick. Depressed Vyv. SORRY. i keep doing this.


	9. Morning Routines

Vyvyan wakes up with a headache, but when doesn’t he? He’s not sure he remembers how to fall asleep without drinking himself into a stupor, and he doesn’t even care. It’s fine. It’s brilliant. It’s where all his money goes. It’s all he knows. The clock tells him that it’s noon in big, block numbers and he thinks, Oh good, I’m up early, and rolls out of bed. He doesn’t bother to change clothes because it’s Tuesday, and he just changed clothes on Sunday. He stomps to the bathroom and kicks the door in and doesn’t even care who or what he might see because he’s awake, so it’s his turn in the bathroom and everyone knows that. Neil is on the toilet, moaning about privacy and how no one respects him or something like that, but Vyvyan can’t be bothered to listen because he’s got to make sure all his hair spikes are going in the right direction, and they are, so all is right in the world, and it’s downstairs for a nice hot cup of tea and bleach without even bothering to close the door behind him. 

Neil is not having a good day, but when does he? It started early this morning, when he forgot to make the tea and Rick called him “Dimbo, the dimmest elephant alive.” and Neil asked why he didn’t just call him “Dumbo, the dumbest elephant alive.” and Rick broke a chair over his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Related enough to be posted together.


	10. Died and was Buried

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (i guess i should probably put a little suicide tw right here. i mean, this is a neil drabble...)

His hands are coming loose at the wrists, unscrewing like doll parts. It’s okay, he’s gonna be okay. He runs his thumb over the beads on his rosary and he can’t for the life of him remember how to pray. They taught him very carefully, but right now he just can’t remember. The ghosts of the words are swimming through his mind, but all he can remember is “died and was buried”. _Died and was buried. Died and was buried._ He can remember the diagram of the sign of the cross. A little girl with lifeless eyes staring at him or past him or somewhere, showing him where to put his hands, what order, how to move. Muscle memory is the last thing to go in these times. It’s still holding on by the weakest of threads. Neil is still holding on be the weakest of threads. There’s supposed to be words with it, but he doesn’t remember them. _Died and was buried._ He hopes very much that God will forgive him for forgetting. He supposes he’ll find out soon enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> having conversations about religion and i churned out this little mess, i'm sorry


	11. Party

“Get a grip on yourself, arsehole.” Vyvyan muttered gruffly. Or it was probably Vyvyan. Neil didn’t have his eyes open yet. Actually, he had yet to remember that he had the ability to do that.

“Hmmm?” Neil hummed from the floor. His limbs were curled in odd directions. He didn’t remember how he got there.

“Get up.” Probably Vyvyan said in a strained voice, grabbing him under his arms and heaving him up onto his feet. Once he was up, he opened his eyes and noticed that the walls were sliding up.

“Woah, fuck, Neil.” Vyvyan said, catching him before he hit the ground. “God you smell. Much worse than usual, Neil.”

“Could you not hassle me, man?” Neil squeaked out in a pathetic voice that he wasn’t totally aware of.

“Yeah, whatever.” Vyvyan said. He began to carefully guide him to the door.

“Vyvyan, do you remember where I am?”

Vyvyan rolled his eyes. “You’re at a party or something, I don’t know. I have no idea whose house this is. I broke three other people’s windows looking for you.” He chuckled. “It was great.”

“Why were you looking for me?” Neil asked, dragging the blunt claws that used to be his fingers across Vyvyan’s face. His skin was lose and he didn’t even know. Neil’s hand caught gently against his teeth, pressing his skin into the hollow of his open mouth.  
Vyvyan jerked his face away.

“Because, Neil.”

“Because why?” Neil asked, leaning his head down onto Vyvyan’s shoulder and closing his eyes. It was much easier to concentrate on walking that way. The ability to visually perceive things was a bit overwhelming at the moment.

“Because there was no tea.”


	12. coiling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> LOL gore

He wraps it around his arm like a slimy snake, friendly and coiling. He laughs at it as it flops around. He never knew it’d be this comical. He never knew he’d be this elated.

“What should I do with it, Rick? Should I tie it in a bow?” he bellows, grinning. He pulls the intestine through his fingers, relishing the sensation. Rick moans from somewhere far below him. His head is several stories up now. He’s a hot air balloon with a Cheshire grin and Rick is his filthy playground. He’s surprised Rick’s still present enough to make any noise. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? A pretty girly bow.” Vyvyan nods at the intestine in his hand, then again at Rick. “I think you would.”


	13. pliers for liars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i did this for my bby luise i love u

Vyvyan was grunting and making loud banging noises upstairs. Vyvyan being loud wasn’t unusual, it was just that he usually preferred to break things in the shared space, and him seemingly going on a rampage in his room was alarming his room mates.

“Uhh guys, do you think we should like… Do something about Vyv?”

“Rick, go check on Vyvyan.” Mike said, without looking away from the telly.

“No way, matey boy, he’d kill me! Anyway, it’s your turn! It’s in the People’s Charter!”

Mike tilted his glasses down his nose and looked at Rick. “It’s what now?”

Neil timidly pulled the People’s Charter out of his pocket. “I uhh, was going to put us on a rotation but then me and Rick decided…well we decided when it’s really scary, you’d better go and do it because uh…”

“Because _what,_ Neil?”

“Because he’s least likely to kill _you_.”

“I suppose you’re right. Let Mike, the cooler, turn down the heat. Good thinking.”

Mike walked up the stairs and rapped on Vyvyan’s door.

“Rick, if that’s you I’ll _tear your head off!”_

“Vyv, it’s Mike.”

Vyvyan appeared at the door immediately, small grin on his face.

“Oh, hello, Mike.”

“May I come in, Vyv.”

“Fine, but you have to keep your eyes closed.”

Vyvyan stomped happily back over to his desk, then leaned back over whatever he was working on, grunting and banging something down heavily.

“Vyv, what on earth are you doing?”

“That’s a secret Mike.”

“Why is it a secret?”

“Because it’s… I shouldn’t be doing it.”

“Really, Vyvyan, what have you done? Have you stolen a cadaver? Doing some illegal dissection?”

“God, I wish.”

“Vyvyan, what is it?”

“I’m…. _fixing….”_ Vyvyan strained.

“Fixing what?”

“I…”

Mike opened his eyes. Vyvyan’s desk was covered in pliers and bits of metal. There were chains and clasps and charms strewn about.

“Necklace.” Vyvyan pushed out. “Mike don’t… I know it’s girly, but I just…”

Mike looked up at Vyvyan, standing there without his vest on, you could see the outline of his binder. He looked angry, his knuckles were turning white around a delicate pair of pliers.

“Vyvyan, one of my medallions is broken. Would you mind putting your industrial side to work and helping me out with it?”

“Sure, Mike… No problem.”

“That’s a good lad.”

“Are you going to tell them what I’m doing?” Vyvyan asked, glancing towards the door.

“I don’t see a problem with it, Vyvyan. But I don’t see why they need to know either.”

“Thanks.” Vyvyan said quietly, looking at his boots.

Mike nodded and left quickly, shutting the door tightly behind him.

“Well, what was it?” Neil asked.

“He stole a cadaver. He’s doing some illegal dissection.”

“That’s dis _gusting._ He better not leave any bits in my room.” Rick snarled.


	14. senseless denial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> just a conversation between rick and neil when they get left alone. and yeah, the title is a modest mouse lyric again.

He settles his back onto the bed and closes his eyes. He’s not ready to breathe out yet. Not yet. Not just yet.

“Neil?”

Hearing someone’s voice startles him up and causes him to choke out the smoke in his lungs. He bats it away like cob webs and stands.

“Uhh…yes?” He addresses the door. Or well, it probably wasn’t the door talking to him. The door’s voice was deeper.

“Is-err- Is dinner going to be ready any time soon?”

“It’s 2 in the afternoon.”

“Right, no of course. I know that.”

Neil stands in silence, not sure what’s supposed to happen next.

“Listen, is it alright if I come in?”

The door opens before Neil gets a chance to respond.

“Oh, Rick. It’s you.”

“Yeah, who did you-“ Rick glances around the room like he’s looking for something.

“Everything okay, Rick?”

“Sure. Maybe.”

Neil sits down on his bed and stares at Rick for a long moment. Trying to figure him out. Rick is still glancing all around the room. It occurs to Neil that he actually hasn’t been in here before, not since it really became _Neil’s_ room. He’s looking around and taking in every detail with his eyes. His big, strange eyes. He reminds Neil of a bug. Maybe his little plaits are antennae. Neil tries not to think too hard about it, because it’s making his stomach upset. Or, something is.

“I just…” Rick finally starts, walking over to the window and peering out of it.   
“Have you seen Mike or Vyvyan anywhere? I can’t seem to find them.”’

“They went to a party.”

“A what?” Rick says, spinning quickly to face Neil.

“Umm, you know. One of those things where a bunch of people go to the same place, and like, sometimes there’s music and food and stuff, but mostly it’s just  a bunch of people who ignore you and waste loo paper and then they don’t even clean up after themselves so you have to spend the whole next day picking up bits of broken glass even though you _were_  planning on-“

“Neil. Shut up.”

Neil furrows his eyebrows.

“I _know_ what a party is, Neil!”

“Oh.”

Rick’s lip curls up in annoyance and he starts to pace quickly, in a small circle. He’s pulling at his plait and Neil wonders whether or not it hurts. He’s almost certain it does, and if it’s an antenna, he’s probably also inhibiting his sense of smell or something like that.

“Rick, do you need to sit down?”

Rick drops to a seated position on the floor and pushes himself into the corner, drawing his knees up to himself. Compacting. He still has nervous energy around him, green and bubbling like a rolling boil. Neil wishes he would calm down, because it hurts his eyes, but Rick doesn’t seem to notice it. He just keeps biting at the skin around his thumbnail.

“Why weren’t we invited?” Rick asks his shoes. Neil looks down at his shoes and wonders if he should ask them, since Rick’s don’t seem to know.

“Well, I mean… I get why they wouldn’t invite you, Neil. But _me?_ I’m great at parties. I’m a delight.”

Neil recognizes that these are the sort of things Rick usually says, but something about them is different. There’s no conviction in his voice. He’s starting not to believe them anymore. Neil thinks it is probably a good thing, but deep in some part of him that he can’t name or find, he feels wrong about it.

Rick bites at the inside of his cheek for a moment, still looking at his shoes for an answer. He raises his face to look at Neil.

“Do you know when they’ll be back?” He asks. Only it probably wasn’t Rick, because Rick’s voice isn’t that small.

“No. I thought they would be back by now, really. Last night when they left they said-“

“Last _night?_ They’ve been gone all _day?”_

“Yes, Rick. And when they left they promised they would be back in time to help me with the-“

“What if they don’t come back?”

Neil brings Rick into focus. His face, his real face. He stares at him, trying to put all the pieces where they go, and even though he thinks he’s put the eyes too far apart he thinks maybe, just maybe it’s close enough. He blinks slowly at him, so he won’t go fuzzy at the edges.

“They’ll come back. They always come back.”

Rick leans forward, standing on his knees and bracing himself with his hands. Neil can see grottos behind his eyes. All the shadows are bad thoughts and Rick is having heaps of them. His voice comes out in a hiss that stings Neil’s wrists and he can’t place it but he feels like and train is about to hit him.

“But what if this is the time they don’t?”

“Rick, you’re scared.”

Rick’s eyebrows flicker into something offended, and Neil thinks he might protest, but he doesn’t. His shoulders settle, and he lets his head fall, staring at the ground. Neil briefly thinks that Rick’s head is only attached by a piece of string, but he knows better. He shakes it off. He’s still clawing at the hard edges or reality, trying to keep them.

Neil pats Rick’s hair, and Rick flinches away, but Neil thinks he gets the message. Rick lets his arms drop slowly and lowers himself to the floor. He stays prostrate for a bit. Neil loses track of the time. Finally, he turns over onto his side and gasps in air.

“This is stupid. I hate them. Bastards.”

“I’ll make some tea.” Neil says, standing and walking over Rick. Neil makes himself busy, and he’s not sure his brain exactly remembers what to do, but his body does and that’s just as good. He didn’t notice Rick come down the stairs, but he’s there now, and he seems a least a tiny bit silently grateful when Neil puts the mug down in front of him.

“Do you want to watch the telly?” Neil asks, leaning down to Rick’s face. He tucks his hair behind his ears when it curtains over his face. Rick stares back at him. “Since they’re not here, you don’t have to sit on the rickety chair.”

 


	15. expressionism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the boys talk about art

“Neil, what’s your favorite movement in art?” Vyvyan calls, towards the kitchen.

“Expressionism.” He says, plainly, continuing his stir of the lentils.

“See, Neil can name one, why can’t you?”

“Cos I um… I know what I like, Vyvyan! I uhh… I like that one with the Italians and the uhh… all the trains and secret codes, you know them um… Uh…”

“Futurism.” Neil says.

“Right!” Rick says, snapping. “That!”

Vyvyan laughs at him.

Rick frowns and furrows his brow. “Oh, stop acting like you know everything, Neil!” He screams, throwing a mug at him. “You’re just a stupid hippy!”

“Yeah, and you’re just a sociology student who didn’t even know what functionalism was!”

“We haven’t uhh… we haven’t got to that part of the book yet.” He says, sitting down quickly.

“The book? Rick, you’ve been studying sociology for 3 years!” Vyv yells at him.

“Okay, now can you all just **shut up**?!” Rick screams.


	16. studio silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Art School AU!!! (maybe rick/neil if u want it to be. not if you don't)

Rick sighs and sits back, lacing his fingers together. He was rarely permitted in the studio when Neil was working, but sometimes Neil needed company. Of course, he’d made Rick promise to be quiet, and Rick had agreed on the condition that he was allowed to pick the music. He shouldn’t have been asking for favors, really, since he honestly would have done just about anything to be allowed to watch Neil work, but Neil didn’t know that. Neil wasn’t _going_ to know that, either.  He’d agreed to it, and that was the only thing worth mentioning. Or well, really he’d rolled his eyes and shrugged, but he’d led Rick to the studio anyway, so it was more of an inferred yes, but it was still permission. Rick had followed him up the hill, trying to figure out a poem in his head. The light was fading and blue and with Neil’s can of paintbrushes in his hands he felt like he was part of something.

Neil hadn’t said a word since he asked. He just nodded or pointed if he needed a brush that was far away. He didn’t like to take his eyes off his painting if he could help it. One night, with his eyes bloodshot and the smell of a party stuck in his hair, he’d fallen onto the floor and told Rick about it. He was trying to find a life in his paintings. Trying to inhabit them. Neil never painted specifics, rarely used references. There were no people or animals. It was always plants or planets. Landscapes or sky space. Anywhere Neil felt like he’d really be able to breathe. Rick had said that no one could breathe in space, but by then Neil was asleep. Rick was still trying to figure it out. He’d been too scared to ask, since.

Neil points to a large paint roller and Rick huffs loudly and gets up to get it. When he gets close enough to Neil to hand it to him, Neil puts his finger to his lips to tell Rick to be quiet before taking the roller from his hand. Rick smiles and steps back, suppressing an irritated sort of giggle.


	17. company under cover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ooohhh.... Neil/Rick angst for like minded sadsacks

“You can’t hold my hand.” Neil says, sliding his fingers out from between Rick’s slowly.

“Why not? I thought you liked that…”

“You’re just… You can’t.”

“Okay. Okay. Why?”

“Because you wouldn’t if… Because you wouldn’t. Because it’s the same as lying.”

Rick shifts. Puts his hand back on his lap, but doesn’t say anything. He knows what Neil is talking about but he doesn’t let himself. Pushes it back, and denial has the gall to make him feel offended.

“Neil, what on earth? I’m just holding your hand. I’m just trying to do something nice for you.”

“Because no one is looking.” Neil says quietly.                            

Rick rolls his eyes. “Well of course because no one is looking, Neil. Because this is a secret. Or don’t you remember? Is that what this is about? We agreed, you know. You said it too-“

“No, it’s different. It’s not just because of that, is it? Like, if we were far away, in some city where no one knew us… It’d be the same, wouldn’t it? Exactly the same.”

Neil hangs his head and rubs at his eye with the heel of his palm. He doesn’t know why he’s brought it up. Why it hurt him so much to have Rick just touch his hand. It doesn’t mean much. He can’t change anything and… And as much as he hates to admit it, he doesn’t want to end anything with Rick. Something in him wants to hold on. He needs it. Or, thinks he needs it. He can’t sort out his feelings over it he just knows that he wants to keep him. He usually just lets these things settle and fade and dilute. But lately…It’s been to long since they were alone, and there’s build up. They haven’t even talked in a while. All their interactions are monitored and therefore fall under the category Rick labeled “facade” but sometimes, Neil isn’t sure. Because that was always how Rick treated him before. And after things changed between them...Well, some things just didn’t. And now he doubted they ever would.

Rick sits and watches, his brain churning and scrambling for something, anything. He’s always talked himself out of this in the past, but his brain is racing too fast to settle on anything. Neil just needs a few crumbs to hold on to, usually. Something to snap him out of it, at least slightly. Because Neil is never really completely right. Rick has come to accept that, he thinks. Quite well, if he were one to compliment himself. He usually tries to sneak into Neil’s room when he notices him seeming particularly down, and he doesn’t even mind just holding him. He doesn’t mind. Neil cries all the time and Rick holds him and usually he doesn’t even mind. But he knows what Neil is talking about, and it sits, poisonous in the pit of his stomach. Making him angry. And his anger always comes at Neil from nowhere. He knows it’s not fair but he can’t stop and sometimes he even lets himself believe it’s okay because if Neil is upset, he’s the only one that tries to make it better, so maybe it’s fine if he’s the one who made him upset in the first place. Maybe.

“I…I…” He sputters and moves his hands. He stops to look at them for a moment. He puts them back down. “Neil, someday, we will go somewhere far away. You and me. And you’ll see. Everything will be fine. It’s… I mean you know how it is, Neil… It’s not my fault. They’re just- I mean they’d notice if I suddenly started acting different, you know?”

Neil doesn’t think that’s strictly true. Everyone in the house is so self-absorbed, he seriously doubts they’d notice if he came down to breakfast without a head. It’s just Rick’s self-importance playing up. He thinks his every move has a captive audience.

“Someday we’ll go and then…and then you’ll see. It’ll be different. It’ll be good. It’ll be like _this._ ”  
Rick says, lacing his fingers into Neil’s again.

Neil stares down at their hands and doesn’t feel particularly like his is attached to his body. Or maybe it’s that he isn’t attached to his body.

“Yeah.” Neil says, when he really means _‘I don’t believe you’._

Rick leans in and kisses him, and Neil lets him because he’s missed him and he doesn’t know what else to do. He has to go back and flip that switch again. He can play pretend if that’s what’s making them happy. If that’s what Rick is doing. He can play pretend again. He just wishes there weren’t breaks for reality to crush him back down. He can’t think of anything but the lies then. They never come out of his clothes or off of his skin. That taste is always in his mouth. It’s not as easy for him as it is for Rick. But he wants it just as much. Maybe more. If it makes him feel good even for a minute, he can play pretend. If it’s making Rick happy, he doesn’t mind.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from Candles by Daughter


	18. limbs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> one of those sad neil things

His eyes roll in his head and his arms are hanging from him like dead tree limbs. Or maybe not tree limbs, maybe dead men hanging from tree limbs. Everything about him is a noose in this moment, stumbling down the stairs in the cold, grey light. It’s been a week since he’s slept and he can’t hear anything anymore, just the wind blowing in his ribcage. He holds his breath as he steps into the garden, thoughts playing at the edge of his mind, but never being fully realized. He sort of thinks he might have imagined it. But no, there it is, looking so serene and holy, the place he carved into the ground. His place. Final resting place. Resting place. He sits on the edge of it and lowers himself in. The soil is cool and damp and he lays his face onto it and breathes. It’s steady and flows from him smoothly like it hasn’t in a long time. He’s starting to fall into the blissful arms of sleep when he feels soil falling on to his face. Someone is laughing above him. He rolls over and opens his eyes slowly.   
“Goodnight, Neil!” Vyvyan laughs over him, throwing another shovel full of dirt onto him.  
“Bye, Vyv.” Neil says, closing his eyes.


	19. soft and dry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick's pov watching Neil

You remember his hands. Cold and white. Long, slender fingers. Sometimes you forget he has skin, he’s so skeletal. But he does have skin, skin that you know. It’s soft and dry and cold. It’s autumn. His skin in like linens dried outside on a windy day, and when you tell him this, he just looks away. Looks down at his hands. He doesn’t believe you. He never believes you. But he smiles anyway, when he thinks you’re not looking. He smiles when he’s pretty sure his hair has fallen in front of his face and no one can see him. You would never tell him, but you saw. You could never tell him because then he might start being too careful. Then he might never smile at all.


	20. nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neil has a bad dream

“No, you don’t understand, you don’t understand.” He says into a ragged breath. His hand is clamped tightly around Rick’s mouth, pushing him into the brick wall. Rick’s skin is clammy and cold and his eyes aren’t focused anymore. “You don’t understand, I’m doing you a favor I promise. Please stop crying.” No matter how many times Neil has said it, Rick just won’t stop. “If I didn’t do this, it was going to eat you alive. I’m sorry, Rick.” Neil says, vision hot and blurring from tears. “Ah, Rick, don’t cry, you’re making me cry.” He says, sniffling. He draws his hand back from Rick’s mouth to wipe at his nose. Rick gasps out, long and low, and slumps forward onto Neil. “You’ll feel much better in a little while, I promise. I promise.” Neil sobs onto Rick. Rick doesn’t say anything, but at least he’s stopped crying. “You just need a little sleep.” Neil whispers to him, smoothing down his hair. He carries Rick up the stairs, slung over his shoulder, and lays him down in his bed. “You’ll feel better in the morning.” He says as he pulls the blankets over him. “I promise.”   
  
Neil wakes up and the first thing he sees is blood. It’s bright and glaring down the front of his jumper, caked and dried onto his hands like a new layer of skin. He tries to scream but he can’t find the air to make any noise. He feels his gag reflex jump, and leans over the bed to vomit. Vague memory is pulling at the edges of his fuzzy consciousness and the only thing he can find is Rick. He needs to check on Rick…


	21. had my doubts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neil forsees the end of the world. Rick disagrees. (Rick/Neil implied >__> )

“No, it’s not.” Rick says with exasperation, rolling his eyes.

“How do you know? You wouldn’t, would you?”

Rick turns to look Neil in the eyes. “Neil, I think I can say with some certainty that this is _not_ the end of the world.”

“Yeah well… Well you would, wouldn’t you? Cos you think you know, only you don’t. There’s no way for you to know.”

“Well there’s no way for you to know that it _IS_!”

“Well…my problem is that I’m like, open to the possibility and like…now seems to sort of favor with the end of the world…side of things…”

“Neil.”

“What?”

“You say something like that just about every Tuesday.”

“Do I?”

“Yes.”

“Well it’s… it’s probably nothing, then?” He asks, looking at Rick’s eyes for affirmation or approval and Rick can never tell. Maybe there isn’t a difference to Neil.

“Right.” Rick says, slowly.

“Right.” Neil repeats.

Neil falls to the couch, sighing out his mental exhaustion.

Rick crouches down over him. “Neil, would you like some tea.”

“Oh yes please, Rick.”

“Good. I’d like some too. Two sugars please, Neil.” Rick says, plopping down onto the couch beside Neil.  
Neil stares at him for a long moment, and when he doesn’t notice, Neil decides there’s nothing else to do, and gets up to make the tea.

“Rick, when was the last time you made the tea?” Neil asks as he pours water into their mugs.

“Well, I-“

“Never. It was never.”

“What? I have to! I did that time I uh… I…”

“I have my doubts that you’ve ever made tea in your whole life, Rick.”

“No, that’s not… Shut up, Neil! You’re just angry cos I was right! You always get mad when I’m right!”

“I never agreed with you, Rick. The world could still be ending. But I’ve just chosen to remember that the world could also not be ending. But that’s true of any moment, isn’t it, really?”

“Neil, do you ever stop and listen to the things you’re saying?” Rick asks, snatching the mug from Neil’s hand. “You never make any sense.”

“I do too.”

“Maybe. Sometimes.”

“You’re just selective. You never want to listen unless I’m talking about you.”

“Well…talk about me then. Say something nice about me.”

“Fine.” Neil says, sitting beside him and taking a long sip from his tea. “For starters um… umm…umm…”

Rick taps his foot and huffs. “Well, come on, Neil! Just one thing!”

“Don’t get me wrong, I…I like you, Rick it’s just…. You know, I’m no poet…”

“That’s fine. I guess I’ll just have to come up with nice things for the both of us.”

“It’d be helpful. It’s a good trade off, I suppose. For the tea.”

Rick rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling this time. “I suppose. As long as I don’t have to make the tea.”


	22. lies in your eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another Neil/Rick chapter!  
> title taken from How Can You Be Sure? by Radiohead, link to one of my Neil/Rick playlists in the notes, along with chapter warnings.

“You’re stupid. You’re shit. You’re worthless.”

Rick wants to hear these words and let them carry him into ecstasy or something similar, but he can’t. These words aren’t for him anymore. Neil is talking to himself again.

Rick can feel the hot pin points of tears on his back, falling wet, dripping from Neil’s nose and chin. Neil shudders as he clumsily slams his body toward Rick.

 “Neil.”

“Worthless.” Neil’s head is bowed and bobbing up and down with his shoulders.

“Do you need to stop?”

Neil falls back onto the bed. “ _Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”_ He mutters quietly.  Rick leans in towards Neil’s face, but Neil won’t look at him. He just keeps staring down and muttering.

“Neil, it’s fine.” Rick says, putting his hands on Neil’s shoulders.  Neil just keeps crying. Pathetic, slobbering mess.

 _“Neil.”_ Rick tries again. Nothing. He can feel anger welling up in his chest and it’s sending signals down his arm, white-hot electricity in his fingers and he can’t help it. He winds back, and his palm connects with Neil’s face, he can feel the energy leave him, he can hear the crack like lightning.

Neil’s hand flies to his face, to the spot where Rick hit him. Rubbing it like he thinks it might not be real. He finally looks at him. There is fire in his eyes but his face still speaks for sadness. Betrayal. Then it shifts. It settles. He’s looking at the bed again. His face is different. _I deserved that._

That’s not what Rick wants. Rick wants him to get angry. Rick wants him to fight back. Rick wants him to stop being so pathetic.

“What happened, Neil?”

“I can’t do this, Rick. It’s wrong, it’s all wrong.”

“ _What’s_ wrong?”

“It’s wrong. _I’m_ wro-“

Rick’s arm flies again, the back of his hand connecting with Neil’s other cheek. Neil doesn’t react the same way this time. Just stays where he lands. Head turned away. Arms bracing him from falling. Staring down still, always staring down. Thick silence swells between them. Rick’s mind is racing but he doesn’t know what it’s racing towards. Neil’s voice registers, small and serious.

“Rick, which is it that you like, being hit, or hitting? I can’t tell anymore.”

Rick settles his breathing and falls back a bit.

“I don’t like _either_ , Rick.”

Rick stares at him, taking in his words. Feeling the violent energy leave him just as quickly as it came. He’s tired now. He’s sorry. He gets up on his knees and moves towards Neil, wrapping his arms around him.

“Neil, I didn’t mean it, okay? I didn’t.” He whispers. He pulls back and takes Neil’s face in his hands. Tucks Neil’s hair behind his ears. Leans up and kisses Neil’s forehead.

“It was stupid. Let me make it up.” He says, tilting his head to think. “I’ll blow you, and all you have to do is jerk me off, deal?”

“Rick, I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“You won’t have to _say_ anything, I promise.”

“I-I-“ Neil looks down at Rick and sighs, letting the tension fall out of his shoulders. “Alright.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings:  
> Neil/Rick, rated M   
> warnings: sex,violence,sub/dom (implied) 
> 
> playlist: https://open.spotify.com/user/whatevershutup/playlist/030rTzauTLMV0MgMMQnPgE


End file.
